Inadequate
by StarryIllusions
Summary: It wasn't a good thing to toss a word around. All the more so in your head. Dipper knew that very well, but that word didn't stop going through his mind as he thought about all of the times he'd failed and all of the times he found it hard to confide in people. It would be nice to have someone understand him...he just didn't think it to be his Grunkle Stan. tw implied incest


Inadequate

Three up, four down…

Two up, one down, three in the middle and one to the side?

No, perhaps four up, three down…one to the right maybe?

Five to the right, one up, three down, the drum solo from that one annoying band Mabel was listening to in the last time at the top?

Losing all logic and patience for the old machine the boy impatiently and angrily hit at it to no avail for a good few moments, making a racket, before stopping with a huff, having lost his breath in his hitting. He felt as if perhaps if he hit it enough by now it would break and he could get the damn treat from inside but all that he saw was the bag staring at him almost mockingly from inside. No, it was mocking him. It definitely was. Everything today was against him! He had left in the early hours of the morning on an expedition with Ford. He had been so excited about everything and had gotten out of bed quicker than Mabel had thrown her nearest plushy at the masked man who had entered their room to ask for Dipper's help – she had managed to hit him right in the face and tackle him to the ground before Dipper even got to tell her he wasn't a threat though. After the clearance of the misunderstanding, avoiding just barely getting hit by grunkle Stan swinging a bat when he arrived at the scene of the commotion and a 'Oh hello, grunkle Ford!' from Mabel, Dipper and the scientist had finally been on their way while Stanley grumbled something about Sixer needing to get himself a human sleeping program.

Compared to Ford's twin, Dipper was too excited about the expedition to worry about Ford's problematic sleeping patterns – which were affecting him just a little bit, but that's what energy drinks were for! One thing he wouldn't try would be Mabel Juice, he was sure only Mabel herself could survive that. However, from there on things just seemed to spiral downwards. Their car had somehow broken down somewhere on the road, plus it took them several encounters with strange creatures and a bunch of gnomes before finding the location and even then they didn't find what they needed from the start. They finally found it when Dipper fell over something and almost broke his leg in the process. It was a miracle he hadn't with that fall! Needless to say the return hadn't been easy since they had to pass through the same space filled with supernatural monsters and then had to walk their way home as the road was quite far from the main streets and even from some of the more secluded country roads. Being a grown man, Ford was quite apt for further research and immediately headed for the lab, telling Dipper to rest. Rest! He had helped him get that thing and now Ford expected him to rest!? Not that his great uncle left him any room for contradicting him as he locked the door to the lab…His exhaustion paired with anger at that. Was this because he had dropped the gun? Because he didn't know how to use that new thing Ford made as well as he could? Because he almost compromised their mission several times while tripping because he couldn't see in that dark place? He didn't even know anymore but it added to his frustration and now even this blasted vending machine wouldn't work! He couldn't even remember the trick Soos had showed him!

The brown haired boy let himself sink to the floor in front of the machine in dismay, his head leaning on his scraped knees…

Mabel would know.

However, she wasn't in the Shack, she would be with her friends all day. Dipper remembered her telling him all about it the day before.

Friends…

Mabel had a lot of friends.

He had friends too though! Like Wendy and Soos and…Ford…just that none of them were really that close to him, were they? They cared but they were never on the same page. Wendy and Soos cared but they could never understand his love for the supernatural and mystery, his ingrained curiosity, they wanted to stay safe and have fun, the type of fun that Dipper couldn't enjoy on more than a childish level or as a fleeting distraction before he got bored. Not that he didn't like that kind of fun, but boredom soon crawled all over it and he lost interest. It wasn't something as thrilling as what he usually did. Ford understood that. Just that Ford lacked a certain understanding. An understanding that would have given Dipper a sense of belonging but that did not seem to exist or, at the very least, manifest from Ford. Not towards him…Ford didn't seem to always catch on to Dipper's moods and sometimes he wondered if it was his fault. After all, Mabel always knew how to tell his moods so he expected others to be able to as well, but Mabel was special, she had a knack for feelings like he had a knack for mysteries and math.

A word seemed to intrude in his mind quite rudely and he felt a bitter taste in his mouth along with the blood from when he had earlier bitten his lip.

Inadequate.

He remembered Ford using it for machines. He remembered him using it for his sister. Mabel was wonderful, she wasn't inadequate. She was sweet and silly and made him laugh. However, he remembered that Mabel herself considered herself inadequate compared to him. Because she wasn't good at math, because she was silly, because she was creative and fun…because she was everything that made Dipper inadequate. Math and mysteries and all of the 'nerdy' things he loved, they gave him a thrill and made him happy – Mabel said that was important, even when she was worried for him – but lacking the love and skill he had for them did not make Mabel inadequate. Perhaps he, Dipper, was truly the inadequate one. Unable to make a lot of friends, hard to understand, always making the wrong decision because he couldn't trust anyone, because he was scared something would bring harm to his family. Truly, in the end, maybe he was the inadequate one because he failed socially, in something that everyone excelled except for him. Perhaps Ford was like that but Ford chose not to interact. Dipper was unable to because he became an awkward mess and by no means had enough qualities to attract people.

The only time that had happened was when he was faking it. It had felt nice but had backfired in the end when he had flirted with too many girls. Despite that, the memory wasn't filled with complete embarrassment and self-depreciation, instead it held some sort of warmth, a bit of shyness and understanding. Yes, Stan wa-

"Ow!" Dipper cringed as the vending machine he had been sitting against painfully hit his head as the secret door behind it opened.

"Kid, what are ya doing there?"

Stan was right there.

"Getting up." The boy mumbled sourly as he rubbed his head and got up, placing his other hand on the vending machine. Some crunching noises and the bag inside moved just a bit before stopping again. Oh, for the love of God! Dipper gave it another weak punch and nothing happened even as he glared daggers at the machine. The older twin raised an eyebrow and closed the secret door.

Originally Stanley had meant to ask what all that banging was about and, while he would have loved nothing more than to point out the obvious and scold the kid for trying to destroy his property on a normal basis, it was hard to think of that when Dipper stood there like that. The poor boy was covered in dirt with a slightly bloody lip, scratches littering his body, a painfully scraped knee looking slightly irritated and with what looked like small tears at the corner of his eyes. He furrowed his brows, not truly needing an explanation. Sixer had woken up all of the house – well more so Mabel, bless that sweetheart – when he had gotten Dipper to go on a trip in the middle of the blasted night. Now it was near afternoon and they were finally back. He had just seen Sixer but Dipper looked much worse and, now that he had a good look at him, he was worried. He was always worried about the boy. He got himself into so many things regarding the supernatural even before Ford had arrived and there was no way to keep him at bay. All Stan could really do was protect the boy to the best of his ability and not let him go in over his head, make sure he got some fresh air, some interaction, make sure he was with his sister and did not close up on himself, like Ford had done with him and the rest of the world. He did what he could but he couldn't stop the boy from following mysteries the way he wanted. So he didn't try to, he only tried to keep him safe. He trusted Ford to keep Dipper safe, he just didn't trust his brother to keep his negative influences away from the poor boy, especially with his place as a 'hero' in Dipper's heart.

Stan gave a heavy sigh and Dipper could only imagine what was going on through the conman's mind…

Surely he thought the same thing.

Inadequate.

He couldn't cut wood too well, he never had a good interest in the shack or business, he failed to keep the family safe and, more often than not, got them in trouble – as if raising the dead that one time wasn't enough – and now he wasn't even good at what he loved the most, mysteries. No, he had become a failure even at that and with how much Stanley had told him to stop and encouraged him to go outside he felt as if the next thing that would come out of the man's mouth would be a good scolding and more about how he should stop, get a good sleeping pattern, not hang out as much with Ford anymore, something like 'take my word kid, this whole thing is no good for ya'…

"You need some help there?"

For a split moment Dipper's mind didn't recognize the words that wouldn't fit in with the possible outcomes in his mind. He looked up at Stanley and felt that a few more tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes. He didn't wipe them up yet, instead following the man's gaze to the stubborn vending machine and where his bag of sweets stood. He felt a blush of embarrassment come over him, more so when he realized he had been silent for a long while. He quickly rubbed at his eyes. "Y-yeah." He agreed and Stan easily did a few hits in the windows just in the right spots, making not only that bag of sweets fall but several others as well. Dipper couldn't care about the others as he retrieved the bags, he wasn't in the mood to care for much but when Stan gave him that proud smile, as if he had done an amazing trick, he somehow suddenly felt happy and grateful for the extra candy. Maybe in the end all he needed was enough sugar to bring him right up. None of it would measure to the brightness of Stan's smile but maybe it would make him less sleepy, enough to be able to look at Stan without getting a headache from that bright smile.

He smiled back. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

"No problem, kid."

Dipper balanced some of the sweets on one of his arms and opened the bag he had originally gotten, putting one of the treats in his mouth, somewhat unaware of the older man looking at him. Stan really hated seeing Dipper so beaten up from these missions Ford was pulling him in – he'd have to give Sixer a good piece of his mind the next time he saw him! He liked the kid. A bit more than he should in truth. A bit more than anyone should like someone from their family that was who knows how many blasted fucking years younger than him. Even so, it wasn't a love he needed reciprocated, he had never needed a love reciprocated to be able to give everything he had for someone and he would give Dipper everything he could. "You know, you really should treat those wounds."

It was Dipper's turn to sigh.

"I will. It's not like they're that bad." He assured, placing another sweet in his mouth. Stan always worried about him. He was understanding and sweet when he wanted to, but sometimes his teasing really bothered Dipper, they got under his skin and made him feel bad and little. He wasn't sure Stan realized it either. But he did know Stan had stopped using them, maybe he had noticed he didn't like them and stopped. He liked thinking that. He liked thinking they had gotten closer and found some similarities. Maybe if they spent more time together they would find more but he felt as if Stan was in that group of people who couldn't understand him. And how he wished he could. If Stan could understand all of the things he and Ford went after, all of the things they did and what mysteries they found…well, Stan would be quite perfect then and that was a bad idea. No, he shouldn't think like that! He liked Stan. The problem was 'like' was a term used for somewhere around the first week of summer, something which had grown exponentially by now and did not have a name anymore because Dipper refused to use the most adequate term.

In this case the most inadequate term was better because the adequate one scared him out of his wits.

"Kid!" Stan called Dipper to attention, startling him out of his thoughts and making him look up at the man. 'Kid' was a term he used a lot when addressing him and by now the small numb pain in his heart had become something normal whenever he heard it. He'd always be a child in Stan's eyes after all, nothing more and nothing less and with that term came many memories of problems and of being saved from them. "You look terrible, you need to take care of those wounds." He scolded him strictly, but Dipper always thought he sensed gentleness there, as if it was more of a worried suggestion than an actual command. Stan started moving towards the counter. "Maybe next time you and Ford go to that stupid underground fail of a spaceship of his to get an accelerator you can actually take the shortcut through the woods and then through the bigger spaceship."

Dipper blanked for a good minute.

'Ping!'

"Wait, what?" he asked, turning around a bit abruptly to see his grunkle doing what looked like a short assessment of the cash register and their earnings.

"You heard me, Dipper. Use the shortcut next time and avoid those nasty creatures. At least use one of those car honkers or those buzzing things, they hate loud noises." The man said nonchalantly, barely looking up to see the boy's big doe eyes looking at him with something between awe, admiration and confusion. When he did look up he was so surprised he stopped in the middle of counting. This was not something he had ever seen before, never addressed to him. He had seen the boy cry, seen him happy, silly, laughing, mad, seen him in complete awe at the supernatural and seen him warm and understanding and…forgiving. But this was a look reserved for his brother, for Ford, for Dipper's 'hero'. This wasn't something he was ever supposed to be on the receiving end of, yet here he was, having lost all of his words, jokes and conman tricks in the light of two doe eyes staring at him as if they had seen the vast ocean for the first time in their life. "What?" he said gruffly and perhaps a bit too brusquely as to hide his discomfort. His heart was not supposed to beat this loudly.

"You know about them?" the boy said in, still in awe, and Stan could have laughed. Actually, he did, once the information settled in. Dipper was still in slight shock but he felt excitement wash over him as Stanley started speaking again.

"Know about them? Kid! I've lived here for 30 years trying to find those blasted journals to bring Sixer back!" he pointed out, placing the cash back and closing the cash register, all of his attention focused on Dipper. "You think I could have survived here if I didn't find out about these creatures? I had to try to find the journals to figure out how that blasted machinery of Sixer's worked and bring him back after all."

Dipper felt stupid. He felt like a fool. He felt so completely astonished that this had gone by him, completely escaped his logic for so long…

Of course Stan knew!

Of course!

Stan had lived there for so long that he must have known! More so, he knew some things that Ford didn't know! Ford! The author! Stanley knew more than Ford on some things and Dipper was suddenly as excited as a child on Christmas Eve as he watched his grunkle, almost forgetting how to blink. This also meant that Stan had probably found out about some of those creatures and how to counter them by himself, more than Dipper had been able to do with just one journal. Stan had had his own, but he knew more about creatures which were not in there and suddenly Dipper felt awed and happy and Stan looked more perfect than ever as he leaned over that counter towards him. He was so close…

Stan had stopped talking.

"Where is this shortcut then? What do you know about them? Have you seen the others too? Have you written anything yourself?" The questions spilled like a cascade, so fast that Stan wasn't even sure he caught everything! "Does this mean you know everything about the portal?" his eyes widened. Of course Stan knew…"You're actually really good at chemistry and math, aren't you?" he said, more so in realization than anything. Stan actually had a blush on his face and seemed as if he didn't even have time to think of a way to brush it off. Dipper didn't even bother, he had a thousand questions on his mind to ask Stan now! A whole new door had opened because Stan – sweet, understanding, teasing, loving Stan – had a view on his world that they could share. Stan was part of both worlds which Dipper wanted and he instantly felt a deeper connection with the one in front of him, one that perhaps was there all along, and his heart felt heavier at the impossibility of how close and forbidden he was. Thankfully, the excitement in his mind diverted him from the pain in his body and soul.

While Dipper was busy with his own thoughts, Stan was at a loss. This…praise…This kind of treatment, praise, these kinds of looks of adoration, these had never been reserved for him and he wasn't sure how to deal with it, his mind went into shut down mode for a good moment as Dipper asked questions that he couldn't even keep up with anymore. "H-hold it, kid!" he said, stopping Dipper in the middle of one of his thousands of questions. Quick, quick, he had to think of something. "I'm not telling you anything till you take care of those wounds and get changed." Because if there was anything on Stan's mind it was the boy's wellbeing.

Dipper looked as if he had just been pulled back to Earth as he looked down on himself. He wanted to protest but Stan's eyes said otherwise. He bit his lower lip and almost caused it to start bleeding again. He wanted to know so much, but if he didn't follow through Stan wouldn't tell him anything…"I'll be right back." The sweets were abandoned and Dipper was heard rushing up the stairs.

Stan sighed in pure relief and sagged onto the nearest chair. That look alone had imprisoned him, brought him to new heights and brought him lower than ever before. To think he could get that look from someone. Anyone! But Dipper? Dipper wasn't easily impressed…he remembered the warm spark in his eyes as he and Mabel had called him their hero, the calm understanding and forgiveness in the car when his advice had backfired against the boy, the completely awe struck and surprised expression he had had when Stan had killed those zombies for him and Mabel…and suddenly Dipper was back and Stan did not have any more time to compose himself.

"I'm back!" The boy panted, cleaned up, bandaged and looking as if he had ran a marathon with his hair still wet, holding a pen and a notebook. Stan wondered how the hell did he even get back that quickly. He could almost laugh at how fast the kid was when he wanted to but there was no time for that as Dipper started asking him questions again. He answered and Dipper was thrilled! The more questions, the more awe and Stan came to answer everything Dipper threw at him and did so confidently because that look of awe was what he wanted to keep seeing. That look of fascination and wonder alone gave him enough confidence to speak of what he knew and he didn't even know where that confidence came from as the boy took notes furiously in a notebook, as if Stan would soon disappear if he didn't write everything down. At one point, Stan was telling him some of his adventures and the boy was just caught up in it. They ended up in the TV room with Stan on his couch and Dipper on the arm of the chair as he continued taking notes or just stared at Stan as he told stories. By the end his arm hurt and he took a break to just listen to Stan, moving onto his lap with the excuse that his back hurt. Stan didn't have anything to say to that but felt himself heat up terribly. He hoped he could blame it on the temperature in the house being too high for this period. Dipper hoped the wounds from earlier would cover as an excuse for his own blush as he made himself comfortable in Stan's lap. In the end they fell back into happy, comfortable conversation about the supernatural and, unbelievably so, physics, technology and the portal. By the end of it all Dipper felt exhausted but satisfied with his new earned knowledge.

They both decided they needed something to wind down and ducktective took the scene instead of their amazingly strange stories and complicated technological debates. It must have been somewhere during it, or even after, neither remembered, that they fell asleep in each other's arms, snuggled up closely, a few treats and Pitt Colas forgotten nearby. Mabel didn't have the heart to wake them up – she did, however, make sure to take a lot of pictures and cover both of them up nicely with a blanket before dragging Ford almost forcefully out of his lab for some quality time! She couldn't fall behind Dipper in that, could she!?


End file.
